Patrick Stump Imagines! (Fluffy)

Eight Days a Week

(I'm probably the only 14 year old in the world who has a legitimate crush on young Paul McCartney.  It's a real problem.  he waS JUST SO CUTE, EsPeCiAlLY IN LIKE 1964 I MEAN cOmE On.  He still really is adorable.)

You walked into your home to find no Patrick hanging around downstairs, but you heard something playing on his record player in his studio.
Assuming he was in his studio, you walked down the hall and down a few stairs to enter it.

His Beatles For Sale album was currently spinning.  The first side of the vinyl was finishing up, playing Kansas City/Hey, Hey, Hey, Hey. 

Right when the song finished, he walked in, surprised to see you waiting for him.
"Hey, sugar!"  He greeted, trotting over to peck your lips.  He was always genuinely happy to see you home, no matter where you went or how long you were gone.  "Sorry, I was letting Penny do her business in the backyard."  He apologized.
You grinned and said, "That's okay, I haven't been waiting very long."

He noticed that the first side of the vinyl was finished, so he carefully lifted the needle and flipped it over to the second side, placing the needle back down on the edge and clicking the volume knob over. 

The first song on the second side was Eight Days a Week, obviously one of The Beatles' biggest hits.  Also one of Patrick's personal favorites.

His face lit up and he grabbed your hand, pulling you into his chest.  You laughed as he sang along to the song, trying his best to imitate John Lennon's voice. 

"Ooh, I need your love, babe.  Guess you know it's true.  Hope you need my love, babe, just like I need you."

You twirled each other around, trying to pull together what little knowledge of 60s dance moves you two had.  In your opinion, you were both doing pretty good. 

"Hold me,"  Patrick gripped you as tight as possible, crushing your spine in the process.  "Love me,"  This time, he softly kissed you. 
"Hold me, love me.  Ain't got nothing but love, babe.  Eight days a week."

You two danced for the entire song.  He then collapsed in his desk chair, and you fell on top of him. 
"You are such a filthy liar when you say you can't dance."  You told him, he stuck his tongue out at you. 
"Everyone can dance, but can everyone dance well?  Not really, and I fall into that category."  He tried to keep himself as humble as possible.

You rolled your eyes and continued to argue about his dancing skills. 
"You don't even try to dance, you just feel the music and it just happens naturally."  You said, and he nodded in agreement.
"Now, that is true."  He replied.

You both sat silently for a bit, and you still mumbled, "You've got some moves, Stump."

(I feel like my imagines are really going downhill... I'm sorry guys...)